The Estate and Lü Zhong

After resting for a moment, Meng Zhao and his group set off once more.

This time, Scarface, Wang Tao, and the other guards were even more cautious, on guard at every turn.

Yet after the earlier attack, the rest of the journey was calm and uneventful, without the slightest hitch.

Once they entered the estate's grounds, they slowed their pace.

Meng Zhao lifted the curtain over the carriage window and looked outside, taking in pastoral scenery that could not be seen within the city.

On either side of the slightly soft black-earth road lay vast fields, their ridges crisscrossing and dividing the land into different plots planted with different crops. Some were already heavy with fruit, while others had only just sent out tender shoots.

Farther away, rows of waterwheels several meters high turned slowly, channeling water from the ditches into newly reclaimed farmland.

Beside them stood stone watchtowers, allowing people to survey the surrounding area from on high.

Should enemies invade, they could also use the terrain to shoot at them with bows and crossbows.

Several children with topknots chased and played nearby. The elders working in the fields scolded them from time to time, yet they carried on as before.

Beneath the white clouds, a flock of birds with long beaks and black feathers circled in the sky, chirping noisily. Every so often, they flapped their wings and swooped down, skimming over the field ridges with elegant poise...

These beautiful sights were reflected in Meng Zhao's eyes. Perhaps for the first time since crossing into this world, he smiled naturally, without the slightest trace of pretense. It was clean and pure.

His mood improved of its own accord. Far from the glittering city and surrounded by nature, the burden on his entire being seemed to lift away.

Deeper within the estate stood large clusters of houses, where the estate's tenant farmers lived.

They were ordinary farm courtyards, one after another in an unbroken stretch, built from fir wood and blue bricks.

Their construction was plain and rugged. Compared with the refinement and comfort of the city, they placed greater emphasis on practicality.

There were also more people along the road. Most were dark-skinned, sturdy tenant farmers accustomed to hard labor, many carrying farming tools. Even the few farm women were broad-shouldered and powerfully built.

When these people saw the Meng Mansion guards, there was no fear on their faces. Clearly, they were already used to them.

But when their gazes fell upon the red banner behind the carriage, the symbol of the Meng Family, expressions of surprise involuntarily appeared on their faces.

Then they naturally dropped to both knees and knelt on either side of the road in salute, showing respect and submission to the Meng Family's noblemen.

The powerful Meng Family had used the red banner as its symbol since the generation of its ancestor, Meng Shentong. Golden flames were embroidered upon it, blazing brightly and strikingly.

Throughout Nan'an, the raising of a red banner meant that members of the Meng Clan had arrived.

Meng Zhao felt no stir in his heart at the sight of something so utterly incompatible with the concept of equality.

In his previous life, he might have been at a loss when faced with such a scene.

But he had been in this world for over a year now. What he should have adapted to, he had long since adapted to. What he could not adapt to, he had forced himself to accept.

In other words, he had integrated well into this world. He would not challenge its established systems and rules.

When they arrived at the estate's center, before a lavish manor distinct from the ordinary farmers' homes, Meng Zhao stepped down from the carriage with one hand wrapped in bandages and the other fingering the Jade Prayer Beads.

He had Wang Tao and Scarface settle the accompanying guards, carriages, and horses, then followed Lü Yue into the manor under the guidance of the old gatekeeper.

But they had barely gone far when a group hurried over to meet them. Once they reached Meng Zhao, they clasped their fists in salute.

At their head was a little old man in a water-blue brocade robe, holding a large tobacco pipe in one hand.

His black-and-white hair was meticulously gathered behind his head and wrapped in a green cloth, giving him a very neat appearance.

Wrinkles covered his face like the bark of an ancient mountain tree, weathered by who knew how many storms and years.

He was also short and gaunt, apparently no more than one meter sixty-five tall, so frail that a gust of wind might knock him over.

Anyone's first impression of him would be that he was aged, decrepit, powerless, and liable to ride a crane westward at any moment.

Yet Meng Zhao did not dare underestimate this old man in the slightest.

Outwardly, he appeared respectful and affectionate, but inwardly, he treated him as a formidable enemy.

Lü Zhong, the chief steward of the Meng Mansion's second branch, had served the Meng Family's previous patriarch—Meng Zhao's grandfather—and had assisted Meng Zhao's father, Meng Zhengan. His importance was considerable.

Now, he continued to give his remaining strength to shelter Meng Zhao from wind and rain, managing every matter, great and small, within the second branch. Within that branch, he stood below one man and above ten thousand.

A more fitting description would be that he was a veteran minister who had served three generations, dedicating his entire life to the Meng Family's grandfather, father, and grandson.

Of course, to the real Meng Zhao, Lü Zhong was like family, someone who would give everything for him unconditionally and without asking for anything in return.

Having such a person to help him was undoubtedly a blessing and a happiness.

Yet counterfeit Meng Zhao felt more wariness and vigilance at this moment.

On the day he had returned to the Meng Family, he had met this old fellow once before.

Although their contact had been brief, Meng Zhao could tell that Lü Zhong's gaze toward "Meng Zhao" was filled with an elder's concern and affection for a younger generation.

He knew that this old fellow was utterly, unwaveringly loyal to Meng Zhao. If he discovered Meng Zhao's true identity, he would definitely make him wish he were dead.

If he had only seniority and intelligence, that would have been one thing. As a feeble old man, he could not stir up much trouble. Even if he spotted a flaw, Meng Zhao could simply arrange for an "accidental death."

But more terrifyingly, Lü Zhong was a genuine Innate Master with extraordinary martial prowess.

Even across the entire Meng Clan, he ranked among its foremost figures. Killing Meng Zhao would probably not even require a second move.

Otherwise, Meng Zhao had been away from home for years. How could the household have remained independent and intact with only an old servant watching over it?

It would have been devoured until not even the dregs remained.

Naturally, Lü Zhong knew nothing of the complicated feelings of the person before him. After leading the others in saluting Meng Zhao, he quickly frowned. A deep furrow appeared between his dry, gaunt brows as he asked sternly,

"Young Master, your hand is injured. Did something happen on the road?"

Though he was advanced in years, his eyesight remained sharp and his powers of observation keen.

He noticed the abnormality in Meng Zhao's hand at once.

After saying this, his pupils might have been clouded, but his gaze was sharp as an eagle's as it shot toward Lü Yue behind Meng Zhao.

Before leaving home, he had repeatedly instructed Lü Yue to act carefully and protect the Young Master well. Yet something had still happened.

Well, it was only a tiny, insignificant injury to his hand, but in Lü Zhong's eyes, that still counted as something happening—and something rather serious at that.

To others, such thinking might seem somewhat unreasonable, like blind idol worship.

But there was no helping it. Meng Zhao had been sent away as a child and had suffered alone in a temple for ten years.

Lü Zhong had been unable to stop it then, for it had been the Great Emperor's decree. But from now on, he would never allow anyone to harm the Young Master.

Meng Zhao smiled and waved a hand, just about to explain.

Then he saw Lü Yue, who had been following silently behind him, step forward and pass him.

With a thud, he knelt before Lü Zhong, pressed both palms against the ground, and lowered his forehead to the hard, cold brick floor as he pleaded guilty.

"Foster Father, your son was incompetent.

First, I was careless and revealed the Young Master's whereabouts, allowing the thieves to set an ambush in advance.

Then, when we were attacked, I failed to protect the Young Master at close range and nearly caused a grave disaster.

Your son has failed your teachings. Please punish me."